You bring the sorghum, The sorghum, the syrup O, Tuck it in a bucket, Or lug it in a pail. I'll make the griddle cakes, Puffy-in-the-middle cakes. Tie them up with bacon And we'll eat them by the bale. You come to breakfast, To breakfast in the morning, If you are a-hungry We will feed you some. We'll fill you with griddle cakes Till your little middle aches, We'll put you in a barrow And we'll trundle you home.